The Things We Do
by La Phoenix
Summary: BANG fic. Cristina learns a new lesson.


Author's Note: So when I was thinking of ideas, a thought hit me. How many cute, intimate moments have BANG fans been treated to by GA writers? Not that many, I realised. So this little fic (the first part of it) is designed to redress that imbalance. Hope you have as much fun reading (and visualising!) as I had writing it.

Disclaimer: GA characters will be mine when Shonda adopts me :)

Set one year after season finale

The Things We Do

Cristina was tired, bone deep-tired. Having just got off her shift and dozing off in the elevator in the hospital, she was grateful she'd made it to the apartment in one piece. Although that was probably due to the fact that she'd opted for a cab instead of riding her bike. That would have been funny, she thought, unlocking the door. Doctor dies after falling asleep on motorcyle - yeah, real funny. She took some time to yawn, leaning her head against the door for a minute before walking in.

Burke's still up, was her first thought. There was a faint light coming from the living room, along with jazz music playing softly on the stereo. Walking further, she saw Burke's trumpet on his stomach, fingers still resting on the keys. He'd obviously been playing while waiting up for her. He never failed to wait up until she came home, often saying he couldn't sleep unless he knew she'd arrived safely.

Looks like he's gotten over that particular hurdle, she thought dryly, for Burke was fast asleep on the sofa. In spite of her fatigue, Cristina looked at him, realising as she did so how much she was looking forward to curling up next to him. In fact, she always found herself anxiously hoping he was there when she got off her shift. Meredith often joked, with envy in her voice, that Burke was Cristina's battery charger. After a couple of hours sleeping next to him, Cristina was back at the hospital, fresh and ready to go. Of course, Meredith was more prone now to making drunken observations since McDreamy had left her - again - for the She-Shepherd.

Leaving the doorway, Cristina walked over to the stereo and shut if off, the sudden sound of silence apparently startling Burke to wakefulness.

"I'm up, I was just listening to music." He sat up, blinking rapidly.

"Uh huh." Cristina yawned again, too tired to contradict him.

"Hey." He got up and hugged her. "How was your shift?"

"Long and awful," groaned Cristina. "I swear the nurses hate me and only me. I never get my charts filled out properly and that never happens to Mer or George. Even Evil Spawn doesn't get half the trouble I get." She grumbled half-heartedly, more attuned to Burke's strong hands kneading the knots out of her back.

"Well maybe if you showed a little more respect to the nurses they would be more cooperative."

Since the shooting, Burke's God-like, surgical arrogance had diminished somewhat. He was still as confident and commanding in the OR as ever - having breezed through 3 months of physiotherapy after the shooting - but he'd become curiously humbler as well too. He now made it a point to say "please" and "thank you" to the nurses and had small conversations inquiring about their families, among other things. At first it was disconcerting to Cristina; who was she kidding - she reacted like Burke had been possessed by demons. He'd only say, in response to her aghast expressions, that after being a patient for a very long time, he'd come to appreciate the role nurses played in the hospital. Since then he'd given her nothing but grief over her bedside manner with the patients and nurses. It was still a sticking point between them and the source of countless tiffs.

"Well, if the nurses were professional in the first place, there wouldn't **be **a problem," Cristina replied tightly.

Recognising the lateness of the hour and her fatigue, Burke refrained from answering, knowing it would only start another argument.

"Have you showered already?" She shook her head. "Good. Why don't you go run a hot shower and get out some of this tension?"

"Do I have to?" protested Cristina, still leaning into him, and seemingly not wanting to move.

"Yes." Removing his hands, he turned her in the opposite direction towards the bathroom.

"The things I do for you," Cristina muttered under her breath, but Burke caught the words and smiled. "You know you love me," he shot back.

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In the shower, Cristina thought grudgingly that Burke was right - again. The worst part was that he never rubbed it in her face nor smiled in triumph, just quietly accepting whatever new lesson she had learnt. For that she should hate him, she thought. He won't even turn that into a decent competition.

The warm water slid off Cristina's weary body and she sighed, stretching like a cat, before suddenly remembering her hair was loose and getting wetter by the minute. As if picking up on her thought, Burke opened the shower stall, with a shower cap in one hand and not another stitch in sight.

"How did I know you forgot your clip again?" he asked in amusement, stepping behind her and closing the door.

Damn, thought Cristina in mild annoyance, grabbing the cap from him. How could one person know her so well? Ordinarily she would be grateful but tired Cristina was always more grouchy than normal. "It's only because I always forget it in my locker," she complained.

"Then buy one for home as well," Bruke chided.

Cristina didn't answer, instead leaning into him. Burke took the body wash and lathered her from head to toe. It was her favourite, she realised, and Burke's hands on her skin certainly felt better than any shower poof she'd ever owned. After a few minutes, she felt the last bit of tension evaporate as Burke continued his therapeutic massage.

Cristina turned to face him with a satisfied smile. "How did you get so good at this? You haven't been practising with your patients have you?"

"Yeah, I practise on my trumpet," he smiled back at her.

"Really?" Cristina laughed. "So are you saying my body's like a trumpet?"

"No, **you **are like a trumpet." Feeling her curiosity, he continued, "Playing a trumpet is an exercise in skill and control. It isn't an easy instrument to learn. If you blow too hard or too soft, you can't get the perfect note. It requires just the right balance of force and subtlety." Burke kept on kneading the muscles from her nape to the small of her back.

"Hmmnn," Cristina replied, vaguely thinking that she should examine what he was saying in relation to herself, but too relaxed to do anything but enjoy his touch.

After a while, Burke felt her body weight relax against him completely, and realised she was falling asleep on her feet. "Come on Cristina," he said, pulling her away from him, only to be met by a massive yawn. Sweeping her off her feet, he walked to the bedroom, grabbing a towel on the way.

Burke deposited her on her feet in the bedroom, quickly drying the both of them, before tucking her in bed and kissing her on her forehead.

"Goodnight, Cristina."

"Night." she replied, spooning into him.

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Next Day at Seattle Grace Hospital

"...So Dr. Yang will give you a full update after we get back the labwork, but based on what we saw in the OR, I have every reason to believe your daughter will make a full recovery." Burke smiled at the teary-eyed mother.

"Thank you, Dr. Burke," Mrs. Thomas hugged him. "And thank you, Dr. Yang," moving over to hug Cristina.

Cristina stepped backwards immediately, ignoring Burke's frown. "You're welcome," she replied quickly.

Stepping forward to smooth over the awkward moment, Burke continued, "Now if there's anything you need - anything at all - please don't hesitate to call myself or Dr. Yang." and excused the two of them with a smile.

As they walked to the nurses station, Cristina rolled her eyes, gearing herself mentally for the coming assault on her "compassionate" handling of Mrs. Thomas.

"So, I'll see you later for lunch?" was all Burke said as he made notes on the chart.

"That's it?" Cristina asked in disbelief. "No lecture on my bedside manner?"

"No," Burke smiled, albeit a tad cooly. "That's just who you are and I guess I have to accept it."

Cristina looked at him uncertainly, then decided to take him at his word. "Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome." This time the smile was warmer. "I have a consult for Derek, so I'll see you later." He squeezed her hand briefly, then walked away, leaving Cristina staring after him. Coming out of her trance, she started searching for her next patient's chart but couldn't find it. Turning to the nurse, she asked abruptly, "Where's Mrs. Peterson's file?"

"I'm adding on the meds she just had. I'll be finished with it in a minute," the nurse replied surly, not bothering to look up from her task.

Cristina let out a short breath. IT was happening again. Fast losing what little patience she had, she was about to snap at the nurse when a thought occurred to her. She replied, a little less agressively, "When you're finished check on the patients in 1071 and 1018," Cristina paused, "Please."

The nurse's head shot up so quickly, Cristina was surprised she didn't immediately get whiplash.

"Yes, Dr. Yang," a newfound note entered the nurse's voice. Probably total shock, Cristina thought sourly and glared at her.

"Here you are, Dr. Yang," The nurse handed her Mrs. Peterson's file. Cristina snatched the chart and took a few steps before remembering again. Walking back to the desk, she said hurriedly without looking at the nurse, "Thank you." and walked off before seeing the nurse's jaw drop of shock.

Damn that Burke, Cristina thought in annoyance. He's nothing but trouble. Scanning the file as she approached Mrs. Peterson's room, she shook her head in disgust. The things she did for that man.


End file.
